Don't fear the Phantom
by JoanneCullen
Summary: Set in 20th century Paris, a girl with a passion for dance falls into a trap set by the Phantom. He is still stuck in the 18th century, with no knowledge of the changes above land. He becomes infatuated with the girl and keeps her hostage with him in his cave. Can she learn to care for the man, or will she forever fear the Phantom. DARK ERICKxOC/RatedM
1. Strange noises

_Hi! I wanted to give writing a POTO fanfic a try, and here it is! Don't know how it will turn out but I hope you enjoy. WARNING: Erik is a little dark in this fanfic (Even though_ he _dark_ af _already)._

 _Jade Chynoweth as Elizabeth aka Lilly_

 _I DON'T OWN ANYTHING RELATED TO PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, OKAY THANKS :)_

 **Lilly PoV**

"Elizabeth, point your toes on that spin," Mrs. Fell demands, huffing in annoyance.

If there is anyone who should be annoyed, it should be me at this woman. My parent's pay two thousand euros each month to send me to these dance classes. Yet all this woman has done recently is shout and criticize my movements.

Then again, I suppose for the price of the class, some harsh teaching is guaranteed.

I glare at the elderly woman before me, her forehead showing deep worry lines, and her eyes hidden behind hooded lids. Her lips are rooted into a tight line causing to look like she forever frowning. Banging her cane onto the floor she stares at me, making nerves begin to bubble up at the pit of my stomach.

The music starts back up, and I follow through my routine flawlessly.

At least I thought it was flawless until I heard a loud puff of air being let out.

"No, no. Your arching your back on the turnout, how many times must I remind you, Elizabeth," She scolds, banging her cane on the ground.

 _How many times must I remind you not to call me Elizabeth?_ I think sarcastically to myself.

"Next!" She yells and the next girl beings running up, ready to take the spotlight.

Rolling my eyes, I walk off towards the side of the stage, where the rest of the girls are sitting waiting to take their turn performing for the teacher. I spot a redhead ducking a weaving her way through the group, and I smile when I see my best and only friend, pop up in front of me breathlessly.

"Lilly, what's going on with you? Mrs. Fell usually yells at you, but she's never yelled at you that much," Samantha points out, frowning.

Samantha is the same age as me, eighteen, but her face still holds the features of a twelve-year-old. She has elbow length red hair, green eyes and a baby face full of freckles. She moved from Ireland to Paris five years ago with her family in pursuit of chasing her dreams, to be a dancer. She's my only friend, mainly because all the other girls are too stuck up and prissy for me.

"I've been doing a lot of different dance styles outside of class. I guess it's kind of thrown off my technique," I shrug, following Samantha towards the cases of props that we use to sit on.

"I wouldn't stress too much, you know Mrs. Fell is a perfectionist." She points out.

"What she is, is a bitch," I chuckle, hearing her shout at yet another dancer.

Looking around backstage at the old rafters and velvet red curtains I can't help but once again admire this building. I feel privileged just being able to be in this building let alone perform on the stage.

The old Opera Populaire, a staple of French history.

This place is beautiful and a huge tourist attraction. How lucky am I to not only get to perform on this stage but I live across the street from it. Every morning I wake up and open my curtains to see this once beautiful building. It's withered slightly with age, but it is still beautiful despite its cracks.

"Next!" I am pulled out of my thoughts by Mrs. Fell loud mouth.

"Wish me luck!" Samantha cheers while running onto the stage.

"Good luck!" I chuckle after her.

 _Your gonna need it._

After the performances, all the dancers started to clear out after getting changed. I took my time, in no rush to get back home to my fighting parents, and sick brother. As sick and cruel as it sounded, dancing was my escape from all the torment I endure at home.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Samantha said, leaning against the changing room door.

Looking around I see I'm the only one left.

"Yeah, see ya," I said, giving her a small wave and fake smile.

With a sigh, I pick up my backpack with my clothes inside and walk out into the hallway backstage. Following the dimly lit hallway, I stop in confusion when I hear footsteps above me. Looking up at the rafters I see there is nobody there.

From what I know those rafters haven't been used in decades.

 _Weird._

I continue walking, but I hear the noise again, this time my head snaps up as I try to catch who's up there, but again, nothing. What is making that noise?

Feeling slightly anxious that there is someone here and I'm all alone, I begin to walk as fast as my legs will let me. The metal above me creaks and I look back in worry, seeing the hallway is now barely lit, behind me.

Freaking out now I start to run only to stop short when I see a frowning Mrs. Fell in front of me, clasping onto her cane to stand. I let out a relieved pant, my chest rising and falling as I try to recollect myself.

"Your still here Elizabeth?" She questions, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought I heard something," I tell her in between pants.

Looking up I search for any signs of someone being there but there isn't.

"It's an old building, it's not uncommon for it to make some noise," She tells me, looking down at the floor.

I didn't believe her. What I heard wasn't creaking, it sounded like footsteps. Like a human being walking.

"Maybe your right," I mumbled, running a hand through my hair.

"You should get home, it's getting late, and we have an early session tomorrow, I expect you to be at your best tomorrow. I've noticed you've lost your passion, Elizabeth," She points out narrowing her eyes with judgment.

I was shocked, to say the least, that Mrs Fell was talking to me like this. We've never exchanged more than a few words between us. I'm surprised she talking to me like an actual human being.

"I haven't lost my passion for dance-" I begin to defend myself, but she holds up a hand for me to stop.

"Correct. But you've lost your passion for ballet. Look around you Elizabeth, this very place birthed a lineage of famous dancers." She tells me, a passion I've never seen before filling her glassy gray eyes.

I've always seen Mrs Fell as a grumpy old woman, but now she seems like a wise grumpy old woman. I can see what she's trying to achieve here, but it isn't going to work.

"You know, sometimes I wish I could go back in time, to see where it all started," I tell her, smiling at the thought of this place full of life at the prime of its time.

Mrs Fell stares at me, her gray eyes not blinking as she watches me with a blank expression. I try not to be creeped out by it, but its kind of hard when she is just standing there not doing anything.

"Mrs Fell? Are you okay?" I question, taking a careful step towards her.

Please don't die, _don't die._

Thankfully she finally blinks and her expression is once again set into a stone-faced frown.

"You should go home Elizabeth," She orders.

Without another word, she turns around and slowly walks away. Her cane thudding against the ground as she goes. My eyebrows raise in confusion at our weird conversation. Did that really just happen? I have to tell Samantha tomorrow. I don't think anyone will believe me when I tell them I had a semi-normal conversation with Mrs Fell.

Shaking it off, I walk out into the foyer, then out into the cold winter air. Smiling at people I pass by in the streets I take my time walking towards the apartment building before me. I can see the lights on in the living room, letting me know my parents are still up.

My happiness dies out the minute I approach the front door. I can hear their muffled shouting already. Pulling out my keys, I dread every second it takes me to open the door. When the door is unlocked, I slide into the stuffy apartment, shutting the door before the neighbors have to endure my parent's wrath.

"Do you think those men like you? Becuase you flash your expensive jewelry at them, that I brought you?" Dad practically shouts at in my mother's face.

I look towards my red-faced father first. His once combed back brown hair is sticking up all over the place, his green eyes are bloodshot and his shallow cheeks are now puffy and red. His suit is untucked, creased and his tie is undone.

A quick glance at my mother I see she is in the same state. Her brown hair is a mess, her face red, her brown eyes filled with tears. Her cream dress that I know she loves has a dark brown stain running down the front. No doubt dad threw something at her, maybe coffee or tea, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm home," I announce, dropping my bag next to the door. "Not that anyone cares."

They chose to ignore me and carry on with their fight. Dragging my feet along the expensive Persian rug, I crack open my little brother's bedroom door. Immediately his little head pokes up from the bed, and he flashes me a bright smile.

"Lilly! Your back!" He cheers, trying to move but his breathing tube won't let him.

"Hey, little man, what have you been up to all afternoon?" I question, noticing his medicine he was meant to have taken is still on the side.

Jesus, I know my parents are going through a rough patch, but could one of them at least look after their son?

"Nothing, mummy didn't put a movie on for me," He tells me, and silently curse that woman.

"Well, I can fix that for you," I wink, walking over to his plasma tv.

Yes, a four year old has a plasma tv in his bedroom. That's what you get being born into a wealthy family in the twenty-first century.

"Tarzan?" I suggest, smiling at him over my shoulder.

He claps his hands together, giggling in excitement towards his favorite movie. I smile, putting the DVD in for him a hitting play.

"Did you have some dinner?" Please tell me that at least fed him...

He nods his head with a smile and I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God they actually did something. Picking up his medicine, I feel sick as I look at the needle I have to inject him with. No child should have to go through this, and the fact that it's my little brother makes it all the more painful.

Adrien is only four years old, with the same green eyes and brown hair as me. Even though he's in constant pain, and bed bound he always finds it in himself to laugh and smile like any other child. He's been cursed with a rare skin condition that not only affects the outside of his body but the inside as well. Parts of his skin comes up in harsh rashes and bumps that are sore to the touch.

I remember I simply hugged him once and he cried for a good hour from the pain.

Now as I look at him, his left arm is wrapped in a fresh bandage so a new rash must have formed on his arm. I push the needle into his right arm, watching him wince slightly in pain. I smile as he remembered to keep his eyes on the tv like I thought him too.

"All done," I announced once it's over, I throw the needle into the medical bin.

"Can you stay and watch the movie with me?"

Just looking into his big, doe eyes I am willing to do anything for him. With a small smile, I nod squishing myself next to him on the bed. His little body curls up into my side, and I'm careful not to touch him. The last thing I want to do is hurt him.

Only five minutes into the movie I hear the shouting from the living room increase. Reaching over to the side of the bed, I grab the remote turning the tv up louder to try and drown it out.

"Why do mummy and daddy fight?" Adrien asks.

This isn't the first time he's asked me this question, and every time I always give him the same lame answer.

"It's just what married couples do," I lie, not wanting him to know the truth.

I couldn't tell him the truth even if I wanted to. My parents haven't been in love for over two years now. The only thing holding their marriage together is Adrien, and even recently I've seen them begin to stop taking care of him. I'm just waiting for the day they announce their divorcement.

"I don't want to ever get married!" He proclaims with a frown.

"Me neither little man," I chuckle, leaning back onto the pillows.


	2. Stuck in a lair?

_I don't own POTO! Have a nice day :)_

 **Lilly PoV**

"Lilly?" I hear a soft voice calling out to me.

I arch my back trying to stretch my muscles out a bit.

Why am I so stiff this morning?

"Lilly, you're squishing me," The voice tells me, but it's a lot squeakier this time.

Pushing through the sleepy haze, my eyes peeled open and I woke up looking into the eyes of my little brother. His bottom lip jutting out in a pout, and his hair a mess from sleep.

"I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep," I tell him, pointing out the obvious.

Getting off his bed I search for my phone in my pocket. I cursed internally at myself because of the low battery. Then my eyes fell to the time and I wanted to rip my hair out. I didn't charge my phone or set an alarm for class today. I'm twenty minutes late already.

"Crap."

"You said a bad word!" Adrien cheers, quickly waking up.

"Sorry little man, I'll get mum to make you some breakfast okay. I have to get going," I rush out, ruffling his hair in a goodbye gesture, before running out of the room.

"Mum!" I call out, pacing towards the living room. "Can you make Adrien something to eat?"

When I turn the corner, only dad is there reading the newspaper, his suit done up to perfection. A quick scan of the room I see mum is nowhere in sight.

"Your mother isn't here right now," He answers glumly, not looking at me.

"Fine, can you make him something then, and give him his medicine,"

"Can't you do it?" He questions, raising an eyebrow.

"I have a class to get to," I sigh, picking up my backpack from the front door.

This time he looks up at me putting the paper into his lap.

"Fine." He huffs, standing up and readjusting his tie.

I hold back the urge to roll my eyes, and instead open the front door to leave. I hope Mrs Fell doesn't give me too hard a time for being late.

"Have a good day Elizabeth," I hear dad call out before I shut the door on him.

I think that's the first time in a year my dad has wished me good luck for anything. I would go as far as saying it's the first time in months he's even talked to me about something other than complaining about mum.

No doubt she will stumble home later a mess from her late night 'adventures'.

It doesn't take me long to get to the Opera house. I run to the changing rooms, trying to get into my ballet costume as quickly as possible. I'm half an hour late no and there no doubt in my mind Mrs Fell is going to find a way to punish me.

Running backstage I see everyone is on the stage practicing their turns. With wishful thinking I sneak my way into the crowd, turning with them in hopes Mrs Fell won't notice me.

"Elizabeth, class started nine, what is your excuse for being late?" Mrs Fell calls out, from the front of the stage.

 _Busted._

"I'm sorry Mrs Fell, I didn't set my alarm last night," I tell her the truth.

She sighs, lowering her head in disappointment. I feel like I'm hanging by a fine line with Mrs Fell. One of these days she's going to refuse my parents cheques to teach me. She's going to completely give up on me. I would, I'm a lost cause when it comes to trying to teach me something.

Dancing should come from passion and imagination anyway, not training and hard work.

"I'll deal with you after class," She dismisses.

Banging her cane on the ground everyone stops spinning and stands tall ready for their next instruction. Samantha beckons with her hand for me to go over to her on the other side of the stage. I shake my head, there no need to piss her off any more than I already have.

The day drags on slowly, and I'm sweating and aching by the time were allowed to get changed and go home. Mrs Fell pushed us to our limits, especially me. She had me go back to the basics of ballet, pointing my toes and repeating the same pirouette move, over and over again. It was all very tiring, and the thought of collapsing on my bed sounded like the most amazing thing in the world.

"Elizabeth, don't forget I want a word with you after you've changed," Mrs Fell reminds me, before I can escape.

I groan, internally of course and trudged off towards the changing room. The girls are already giggling and gossiping amongst each other as they change. I, on the other hand, sit down on the bench and hold my head in my hands.

"You alright?" Samantha asks.

I feel her arm wrap around my shoulders in what I assume was supposed to be soothing. I shake it off, standing up and running my hands through my natty, sweaty hair.

"Sorry, I'm just all sweaty and gross right now, I don't even want to change," I grumble.

It's a horrible feeling trying to peel off a skin-tight leotard when you're sweaty. I hate the fact that we have to wear these things. We are all expected to wear black leotards with white tights, so Mrs Fell can see our movement clearly.

I much prefer wearing some jogging bottoms and a sports bra when I'm working out, this outfit is just ridiculous.

"You don't have to, you only live across the street, you might as well just go home in that,"

"True." I agree, sitting back down after I've cooled a bit.

"So I've got tickets to see black swan tomorrow-"

"I can't," I cut her off.

"Why not?" She pouts at me.

"Becuase I have to look after my brother," I tell her, and her eyes filled with pity. "Maybe another time."

"Sorry I forgot. Your right we can go another time," She agrees.

I sit there in silence while Samatha gets changed. We chat to drown out the other girls taking pictures in the corner of the room. I would have loved to see black swan with her, I can't remember the last time I've been out just to hang out.

"I'll see you next week," Samatha said in goodbye.

"See ya," I fire back walking out of the changing room, once again I'm the last one out.

I took Samantha's advice and left my ballet outfit on, just throwing my hoodie on over the top, due to the winter weather. Now all I have to do is talk to Mrs Fell and I can go home. Where is that old woman when you need her?

I hear a banging noise coming from the other end of the hallway. A really loud banding noise, almost like Mrs Fell is banging her cane against something. I've never really ventured this way into the opera house before, I don't think anybody has.

"Mrs Fell?" I call out, not wanting to get in trouble for being here.

The banging stops and I freak out when I hear what sounds like someone running across the metal rafters above me. Clutching my hand to my chest, I look up in fright seeing a black shadow disappear above me.

"Old building my ass," I mutter under my breath.

I sling my backpack onto my back and walk over to the ladder that leads up to the rafters. It's probably a really dumb idea to do this, but to hell with it. Something inside of me, much larger than curiosity urges me to climb the ladder to find the source of the noise.

The metal creaks under my weight when I reach the top, and I hold onto the railings either side trying not to look down. These things are much higher than I thought they were. I can't see anyone up here.

"Is anyone up here?" I call out, then realize how stupid I sound.

I've probably ended up going insane. For all I know I could be talking to myself.

Edging forward slightly, I feel my legs begin to quiver with fear from the sheer height. I'm not usually afraid of heights, but this thing hasn't been walked across for decades, it could collapse at any minute.

What am I doing? I question myself. It's as if I was possessed by something greater. Deep down I would have never climbed up here, no matter how curious I w

Realizing my bad choice I back up slowly to get back to the ladder. That's when my foot hits something. A cloud of smoke puffs up in front of me. I scream as the metal below my feet disappears leaving me to fall towards the ground. But I don't hit the ground. Instead, I fall onto a pile of old mattresses. A cloud of dust filling my lungs when I land on them.

I look up at the hole I fell through only to realize that it wasn't a hole.

It was a trap door.

"No, wait! Mrs Fell!" I try to scream for help, but the door above closes.

Now I'm laying on a pile of old mattresses, underground in the pitch black with no idea where to go. Shuffling my backpack off my back, I blindly open it and root around from my phone. I finally hit something metal, and when I pull it out the screens light gives me something to see with. Five percent battery.

 _Great, just great._

I try to call Samatha knowing she is always glued to her phone and will surely pick up within the first few rings. But when I call instead of the usual ringing tone, I hear a high-pitched beeping noise.

No signal, great- perfect, I'm going to die here alone.

I can't think like that, I need to get out of here, where ever here is. I turn on the torch tool on my phone and the room I'm in is instantly lit with light. It looks to be some kind of sewer tunnel. But there are old-fashioned torch brackets secured to the walls which suggest people used these tunnels. Maybe there's someone still down here?

I hope not, I wouldn't like to think what kind of deranged, psychopath would stay down here.

Taking a deep breath of the stuffy air, I begin to walk down the tunnel only to find out what a maze this place is. Tunnel after tunnel I keep walking until I start to believe that I'm walking around in circles. I defiantly walked past the pile of mattresses more than once. Trying a different route I get half way down a tunnel when I step on a brick that begins to sink into the floor.

I jump back just in time to miss an arrow to the shoulder.

Trap doors and booby traps? Am I under the opera house or an evil billionaire's mansion?

My breathing comes out shallow as I continue on taking more care with where I'm stepping. Too bad that as I focused on my feet, I didn't notice the wire in front of me. I practically walk into it face first. Jumping back didn't help this time. Metal gates blocked me in as water began to pour out of two holes in the walls. This wasn't clean water either, it was green and murky.

The water was filling too quickly, and in no time I was submerged under the water, my phone blinking in my hand as it began to die out. I swam to the surface only to realize the water had risen all the way to the top of the ceiling.

I tried to hold my breath, but I gave in to my body's need to breathe and inhaled some of the water. My eyesight started to form black dots, and the water was becoming too heavy to swallow anymore.

That's when I felt myself begin to sink to the floor and my mind shut down into darkness.


	3. Man wearing a mask

_So I have 3 chapters written so far, let's see where this goes from here :) I don't own POTO!_

 **Lilly PoV**

I sucked in a breath only to feel a burning ache in the back of my throat like I've been coughing for days on end. Gosh, my throat is dry. Trying to open my eyes I groan and roll over, giving up I shut them tightly. Spreading out my hands, I run them over my surroundings in wonder. This bed is so comfortable and smells amazing.

Wait I don't have velvet sheets.

Snapping my eyes open I sit up, petrified at the foreign bed I'm in. I'm laying on a metal bed with red, velvet cover pillows and sheets. Looking around I notice that the metal casing around the bed is of a shape of a swan and that there is a black curtain surrounding the outer edge of the bed.

Where the hell am I?

 _I remember falling, and then the water- I drowned didn't I? Maybe I'm dead, and I'm imagining all this?_ I question myself trying to piece together how I got here.

Pulling back the curtain, I step out onto old concrete flooring which is littered in cracks. My mouth falls open at the sight I walk out to. A small river cut off by a metal gate, surrounded by golden candelabras and candles of various sizes litter the room, illuminating it.

I take careful steps as I begin to venture further around this place. I notice drawings of a woman on aged paper, her hair is long, curly, her lips full and eyes full of life. She's very beautiful. I bend down taking a close look at what seems to be a miniature version of the stage at the Opera House. A woman stands at the center in a glamorous dress, singing before a full crowd. No doubt its the same woman from the drawings.

Everything here seems so old, so ancient.

Running my fingertips across what seem to be old props, I come to a staircase made of large bricks. Walking up them I see a grand organ, flooded with parchment paper that has music notes elegantly handwritten.

 _Fascinating._

Taking a closer look I see another drawing of a woman, her right leg raised and pointed in the air. While her arms are raised over her head in a classic ballet position. Wait, is that _me_?

A noise approaching from the distance startled me and shook me out of my awed state. The gate creaked and groaned as it began to rise from the water. I stayed rooted to the spot in fear of what or who was about to approach me.

From the distance, a gondola appears from the darkness with a man standing on it holding a pole. My heart begins to race at the sight of the man. He seems to be wearing an old fashioned black tux with a vest and a cape strewn over his right shoulder. He stares at the water, but as if sensing my eyes on him, he snaps his gaze towards me.

I choke on the air around me, causing my already sore throat to burn and remind me of the pain it's in. The man doesn't take his eyes off me as he steps off the boat. Cautiously, as if not to frighten a sacred animal, he takes a couple steps towards me.

Clutching the organ behind me, I search for a weapon of some kind. But all I feel is paper, after paper. My legs and mind urge me to run, it's my natural instinct to flee.

But the biggest problem is that there is nowhere to flee to.

The man begins to climb up the steps where I'm standing. His face coming into the light. I notice half of the left side of his face is covered by a white mask. My eyes find his blue ones, and I try to take in every little detail of him I can see to try and guess what kind of a man he is. From his jet black hair, light skin, blue eyes, and mysterious mask. I could guess he was a born and bred French man through and through. Then looking at his outdated attire, love for art and music and choice of living style, I'd have to say he is slightly insane.

"I trust you slept well?" His voice was so soothing yet held a menacing tone to it.

My mouth opened to answer but soon closed as soon as it opened. I was stunned into silence from all the events that have unfolded in the past hours.

"Here. I'm sure your throat is sore and you must be in pain from the fall," He hands me a sheet of tablets along with a bottle of water.

Painkillers- I've only just met this man, and although everything about him screams for me to run to the hills, all he has shown so far is kindness. I'm sure he's the man that saved me from drowning, I can't see anyone else being down here.

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Who are you?" I croak out, my voice rough and dry.

He gives me a blank, unnerving stare in response to my question. He unclips his cape from his shoulder, pulling it off and throwing it carelessly to the side. I stand there not knowing what to do as he walks away from me towards the room I woke up in.

I look around frantically for some kind of weapon or escape route. The gate is now shut cutting off the one exit I can see. All I see are candles, and papers, and useless props- I stop short practically running towards a shiny dagger laying amongst the pile of props. As the masked man comes back into sight, I hold it behind my back.

"I'm sure you would feel more comfortable in your own clothes, they should be dry now," He hands me my backpack without another word, disappears behind a red curtain to a place I haven't yet explored.

 _That's it?_

He gives me some painkillers and water, hands me my bag and then leaves. He didn't even bother to tell me his name or explain the situation.

Looking down at my leotard and tights that used to be white but now look a murky green from the water I was in. I do need to change. I excuse myself back to the room I woke up in, which I suppose could be classified as a bedroom. Though this room doesn't have a curtain to act as a door.

Keeping to the corner of the room in fear that he might be a pervert, I change into my sweats, zipping up my hoodie and keeping the blade I found in the waistband of my pants. After taking two of the painkillers and downing the bottle of water, I search for my phone. It's probably a lost cause, I already tried phoning for help and it was already near death before the accident.

It's not here, I sigh, shoving everything back into my bag.

Walking out of the crevice I see the man now sitting at the organ, his fingers ghosting over the keys, not playing it.

"How do you feel?" He questions, keeping his eyes on the keys.

"Better. Do you know where my phone is?" I question, my voice still feeling like sandpaper, but the water certainly helped.

" _Phone_?"

"Yeah, it was in my hand when I was...in the water," I trail off.

Coming to his masked side, he gives in and lets his eyes trail from the keys towards me. He keeps a neutral expression, but from the slight decline of his eyebrow, he seems perplexed by my question.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," He replies.

"You don't know what phone I'm talking about?"

"I don't know what a phone is," He admits.

He doesn't know what a phone is, what human being in the twenty-first century doesn't know about mobile phones or even telephones for that matter. Then again, I am talking to a man who covers half his face with a mask and hangs around in a cave under a opera house.

Should I really be that surprised?

"Do you- live here?" I question, keeping a fair distance away from him.

"Yes."

"By yourself?"

"Yes."

I try not to seem annoyed at his one-worded responses. He seems so cold and distant, which makes me wonder why he even saved me. He doesn't seem like the type of person to interact with people, let alone bring them back to his isolated home underground.

"Why?" I asked.

"This is my home," He tells me, turning back to his organ.

"But isn't it awfully lonely and dark down here?"

His lip twitches in response as if he was about to smile at what I said. He presses a few keys a dark melody beginning to stir before it completely fades into silence and he stops playing.

"I've made you something to eat if you are hungry," He answers, stiffly pointing in the direction of the red curtain.

"Can't you just take me back to the surface so I can return home, I'm sure you know these tunnels like the back of your hand," I joke, flashing him a small smile in hopes of lightening the dreary mood.

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why not?" I question, frowning in confusion.

"Because you're not returning home."


	4. Hostage

_Back at it with another chapter! I don't own POTO!_

 **Lilly PoV**

"What do you mean I'm not returning back home?" I ask, tightening my grip on the blade behind me.

"You are to stay here, with me until I say otherwise," He answers calmly.

Standing up he faces me, his expression blank and mostly hidden behind his mask. Instead of recoiling back in fear like I wanted to do as he took a step closer to me, I pulled the blade out from behind my back and held it to his neck. My hand quivers in fear as I realize what has to be done.

I don't want to commit murder, that's the last thing I want to do. But I can't sit around and let this man keep me, hostage, here.

His eyes trailed down, eyeing the blade for a second before he calmly reaches up and grasps the end as if it's nothing. Not even a cut or drop of blood leaves his palm.

"It is a prop for a reason Elizabeth, go and eat."

"How do you know my name?" I stop short once my full name passes his lips.

He called me Elizabeth, but I never told him my name.

"Go and eat." He scolds, stepping closer his lean body towers above me.

Not wanting to see what this man is capable of, I immediately put distance between us and run past him. Pushing aside the curtain I enter a room which is fairly plain considering the rest of the cave. Similar golden candelabras lighten the room, while a large oak table sits in the middle of the room, two chairs at either head of the table. I take a seat at the end which has a plate full of food and a glass full of water.

The food itself is strange, certainly not anything I would eat. Lumps of different cheeses, crackers and a bread roll with butter. This man seems to be living in a different century.

I pick at the food, barely eating any as tears well up in my eyes. I can't be trapped down here. I dread to think what this man's plan is for me down here.

My one plan I had of escaping failed, and now I have no idea what do do. The only way out seems to be through the river, but the gate is in the way. There's no way he wouldn't be able to hear it opening. I shudder at the thought of what he might do to me if I tried to escape.

What am I going to do?

There must be another way out of here. I need to get out, Adrien needs me. He could die if he doesn't receive his medicine. I can hardly rely on my parents to give it to him. I doubt they will even realize I'm gone. But Samantha might, anytime I've missed a class she has always been quick to phone me and find out where I am. But it's the Friday and classes don't start again until Monday.

Goddammit, I fist my hair letting the tears roll down my eyes.

"You've barely eaten," I jump, startled by his sudden presence.

He comes into view and his eyes narrow just a second at my face before, composing himself back to a blank stare. I don't answer him, knowing my raw voice mixed with my sobs will only betray me and let out how scared I am of this man. This man who still has yet to tell me his name, which I doubt he ever will.

"I suppose your throat is still sore from the water. I want you to know it was never my intention for you to get hurt," He tells me, clasping his hands behind his back.

I don't give him a reply in response. Tears continue to roll down my cheeks, not matter how much I try to hold them back to seem stronger in his presence. He's not even affected, not one ounce of remorse or pity in his eyes.

He sighs, unfolding his hands and flexing his knuckles, making them crack and click.

"If you wish to not eat, then go and rest, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow," And with that, he walks out.

Only a few moments later the organ starts back up, the same dark melody as before filling the silence. Standing up I tread quickly as I walk around the room. Running my hands over the walls in hopes of finding a secret door or something that can help me escape. I'm sure a man who has bobby traps and trap doors, doesn't only have one exit from his home.

The stone walls are cold and slightly moist. I almost want to break down and cry again when I feel there are no hidden compartments.

Biting down on my lip I hold my head up to the sky in despair. Just when I was about to lose all hope I see a carved out square in the ceiling above the table. An outline similar to the trap door I fell through. Without a second thought, I'm climbing up onto the table, pushing my hands against the cave roof, feeling the stone shift and lift up under my palms.

Thankfully the sound of the organ is drowning out the loud noises of the stone shifting to the side. Once it's out of the way a dark overhead tunnel seems to be above. Looking behind me quickly to make sure the curtain is still shut, I place my hands above me and grip onto the rock as best as I can.

I'm glad I was forced into athletic sports at a young age, if not I wouldn't be able to push myself up into this crevice. I give out a little grunt and I push all my body weight up just using my arms. I claw at the ground, trying to get a grip as I get into the secret tunnel.

All around me is complete darkness and this time I don't have my phone to give me a light. It doesn't matter though. This has to lead to an exit somewhere, I just have to find it. So I begin to run, my hands outstretched in front of me to avoid running into any incoming walls.

Hope keeps me pushing on after endless running. I hit another wall and I feel my way along for what direction I have to head next. I can picture it already, a light appearing in the darkness, showing me the way back into the opera house. Or even better a doorway that leads outside, I could run to the police station and get this man arrested before he would even realize I'd left.

A smile makes its way onto my face as I see a candle lighting up the tunnel in the distance. My stomach drops as I see a white mask behind the candle. He found me, but how? I have no time to question it, as he begins to ascend towards me with a menacing stride and near murderous glare.

My feet stumble backward on their own accord, taking a turn down a new tunnel blindly running in fear.

He can't take me back there, please. I plead to God, hoping that he will give me a chance to escape.

"Elizabeth stop!" He voices booms through the tunnel causing me to keep running.

That's when I feel another stone below my foot sink into the ground, and I gasp slightly, frozen to the spot. I don't see what I set off, but I defiantly felt it. A sharp object impaled into my shoulder blade, and I screamed out in pain collapsing to my knees. My hands reach up to pull it out, but it burns my flesh to the touch. I feel blood begin to seep into my clothes, running down my skin and trailing down bellow my stomach. The pain is like nothing I ever experienced. I've broken bones before and it never felt as bad as this.

The man quickly rushes to my side, and once his candle lights the space around me, I see an arrow sticking out of my shoulder.

I think I'm going to pass out, or be sick.

Maybe both.

"I'm going to have to pull it out," He speaks calmly kneeling in front of me.

"No- don't touch it!" I plead, trying to scoot away from him.

My struggling only causes the arrow to shift which in turn makes me cry out from pain.

"It can't stay impaled into your skin forever,"

With that unbearable pain shot down my spine as the object was yanked, hard out of my flesh. I wouldn't be surprised if I broke glass somewhere with the sound of my scream. I couldn't see past my blur vision, and my muscles felt weak and numb.

The man's arms wrapped under my legs and back. Even though I whimpered in protest, he lifts me up, cradling me to his chest. My shoulder begins to throb and I can still feel warms liquid dripping over my skin beneath my clothes.

Somehow he manages to maneuver through the tunnels without needing any light. His chest rises and falls with calm breaths, but with my head now against his chest I can feel his heart hammering wildly beneath his skin. Yet his face and posture are eerily calm.

Light suddenly engulfs us and we enter the cave again but not from the kitchen like a thought. This time we come from a staircase behind the organ. His steps become quicker as we approach the bedroom. Gently he lowers me down onto the mattress, all the while my eyes screwed shut as I choked back whimpers.

He disappears for a second before returning with a rotten looking wooden box. When he opens it I spot what seems to be a medical kit, but its contents are unlike those I have seen before.

"Lie back." He commands.

I comply, for now, letting my head rest back on the velvet sheets. The comfort helps slightly to ease the pain, but it's a very small relief.

"May I undress you so I can tend to your wound?" He questions, hesitating as he takes a seat on the bed next to me.

I nod, just waiting for the pain to be gone already.

The sound of my hoodie being unzipped is the only sound I can hear besides my heavy breathing. _Don't pass out Lilly, it's just a surface wound, that's all, a surface wound._ His gloved finger gently pushes back the strap of my vest where my wound is.

"You're going to need stitches, I'm afraid I'm not the best seamstress," He admits.

"Then maybe you should take me to a hospital,"

He ignores me and presses a cold, damp rag to my wound. I let out a growl of frustration, before letting the coolness soothe my wound. I wish he wouldn't do that. Answer a few of my questions only to ignore me on others. If there's one thing I hate is being ignored, I get enough of that treatment from my parents. I don't need it also from a stranger.

He begins to use the rag to wipe at my shoulder, and when he pulls away I see the rag is soaked red from blood.

That can't be good to lose so much blood like that.

He dips the rag into a bowl, ringing out the red water before bringing back to my skin trying to clean the area. He stops at the hem of my shirt just above my breast, letting the rag linger on my skin before he finally puts the rag to the side. He pulls out a sharp but thick looking needle and black thread.

I lift my head slightly, gulping as the sharp object reflects back a shine at me.

If Adrien can do it every day, then I can endure it for a minute or two.

"What on earth were you thinking trying to run away in those tunnels? Do you not recall nearly dying already from the traps? " He scolds while threading the needle.

"You didn't give me much of a choice, you're keeping me here against my will," I snarl at him.

The needle punctures my skin and I yelp out a curse word under my breath at the sharp pinch. That defiantly hurt a lot more than it should have. Perhaps angering the person with a needle isn't the wisest choice at the moment.

"I am simply keeping you here for the time being. You will be free to go once I say so,"

His demeanor is so dark and mysterious, yet his voice is so smooth and could easily be mistaken for kindness. I don't trust this man, even if this is the second time he has saved my life.

"But why? Why are you keeping me down here?" I asked, clenching my fists as he continues to re-puncture my skin with the needle.

"I have my reasons." He gives as a vague response.

My fingers curl around the sheets beneath me, as he finally stops and cuts the end of the thread off with a pair of scissors. He apologizes when he pours some rubbing alcohol onto my closed wound, before wrapping it up with a bandage.

"I'm afraid your shirt is ruined, and I only have two dresses at my disposal for now," He tells me, walking over to an oak fashioned wardrobe.

I lean up against the back of the bed, looking down at my bloody vest. From my perspective, he didn't do too bad a job at taking care of the wound. I didn't mind the thought of having to wear a dress, anything should be better than sitting in your own blood and letting it dry into your skin.

With that disgusting thought in mind, I was bewildered at the dress he held out for me to see. A rose gold dress with long sleeves and ruffled shoulder pads. The bust is large, and hips pulled in tightly compared to the large puffed out skirt. Elegant white stitching in the form of swirls and flowers cover the shirt and bust. It was so finely detailed, it could have only been hand broidered. But this was no ordinary dress you could buy in a shop, no, this dress had to have been from a different time. It's style matched the man's clothing perfectly. In fact, everything I've seen down here appears to be from another century.

"I don't suppose the other dress is any different?" I ask.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I'll just wear my hoodie for now," I mumble, trying to lean forward and retrieve it, but my arm throbs in protest.

The man sets aside the dress and helps me out, by handing my black hoodie. I shuffle forward as far as my body will allow, my eyes meet with the man's who is still standing at the edge of the bed, watching me. Does he expect me to change in front of him?

"Could I have some privacy?" I question.

If he says no, I'll know for sure that this man is as deranged as I think he is.

"My apologies- do get some rest. I will check on your wound again in the morning," With a bow, he disappears from my line of vision.

I use my uninjured arm to pull my top over my head, leaving me in only my sports bra which I use for dancing. My stomach has a smudge line of drying blood trailing down from my arm. Thankfully he left the rag and bowl, which I use to clear up what remains of the blood. Putting the hoodie on was a task that didn't go without pain and struggle. But I managed to wriggle into it.

I dread what tomorrow has in store for me. From what I recall the man said 'we have a big day ahead of us'.

I really don't like the sound of that.


	5. Inside the Phantoms mind

_Do you like the Pov change or should I keep it to Lilly only?_

 _I don't own POTO!_

 **Erik PoV**

The music of the night, one of my favorite compositions to this date, a melody created by the demon inside me. I hadn't played this song in so long, not since the accident. I grit my teeth, pushing down on the keys harder, making the melody sound impossibly eerier. Not since she fell into my trap. The young dancer- Elizabeth Perez.

Without a doubt she was beautiful -a true beauty- too pure for a monster like me to gaze at.

I hadn't risen to the surface since the accident. Time seemed to pass by without me even noticing, I was too stuck in my own diaper and heartbreak to notice. Over the years, centuries- I've lost count- Madam Giry passed the opera house down to her daughter who then on passed on the opera house to her child. The Giry descendants are my only real living connection to the world above.

I've noticed the change in each descendant, their clothes, their mannerisms and foreign objects. Though I kept to the shadows and dark depths of my cave, ignoring the changing world above me. I do not know why I am still here, or why I have not aged. My only assumption is that the devil has cursed me to walk the earth with this horrid, monstrous face to never be loved.

 _Christine_... The name pained me even after all the time passed. She feared the monster behind the mask, she pitied me and tricked me so she could live a life with her suitor.

I recall the time I first saw Elizabeth, I'd gone to Mr's Fells office to collect my weekly surprise but stopped as I looked through the mirror at a girl in her office. She paced the small space arms crossed over her midsection a worried expression on her face. I was mesmerized by her from the moment I saw her green eyes and curly hair. So similar to...her.

The girl stopped moving towards the mirror, and it was as if she was looking straight into my eyes. Of course, she wasn't, that was the beauty of the mirror, I could see them, but they could not see me. Her clothes were more than his mind could handle. Her stomach was completely bare, as were her legs from her thigh downwards. I'd never seen so much human flesh before, beautiful, tanned flesh right before my eyes. I wished to feel her skin, press my lips to it, finally learn what it felt like to be entwined to another human through pure passionate lust.

This dancer awoke the fire back into him, but this time he would not let the girl slip so easily through his fingers.

I wonder how she is enjoying her meal, I gave her a platter of my finest cheeses, I'm sure she will enjoy them.

Leaving my organ, I pull back the curtain confused at the sight of an empty room. Looking up my eyes widen from shock at the trap door on the ceiling left open. Quickly though it was replaced by worry and anger.

The insolent child! Has she not learned that these tunnels are not a place to wander around. My feet were already chasing after her, a single candle in my hand as I maneuvered around the tunnels that surround my home.

 _Please, don't take her away from me already, spare me this one chance_ , I pray to God.

It's not long before I hear her heavy breathing in the distance. Relief fills me knowing that she is alive and hasn't met the horrid fate of another one of my traps. I continue walking until I see her petrified face in the distance, clinging to the wall next to her. As her eyes meet mine in the darkness she takes off again this time in a different direction. Towards another one of my traps-

"Elizabeth stop!" I yell out in hopes she will stop running, but she doesn't.

I hear her scream of pain below through the tunnels, and my heart clenches. I waste no time in getting to her side. I see an arrow seethed through her shoulder blade, red blood pouring out of the wound. Tears ran down her face, pain etched onto her strained face, flush from what I can only imagine is unbearable pain.

"I'm going to have to pull it out," I said in a calm voice, hoping to not scare her further.

Kneeling down I reach forward to pull the arrow from her wound but she pulls away from my touch.

"No- don't touch it!"

She cries out again in pain, and I know I have to get the arrow out before it causes more complications.

"It can't stay impaled into your skin forever," I point out.

She appeared to be dazed, so I grabbed a hold of the wood and yanked it out, wanting to remove it as painlessly as possible. Her scream broke outcoves beyond those I can recall Carlotta singing at or more like screeching.

I wanted to apologize, hold her and try to make the pain go away. But it is clear that she is scared of me, even with the mask on she fears me. To such an extent that she put her life at risk trying to get away from me.

So instead I lifted her up into my arms, holding her body to me as I abandoned the candle and began the walk towards my lair. I knew these tunnels like the back of my hand, dark or light I could walk knowing where to step and where not to. Selfishly it felt heavenly to hold her so close, to feel her body warmth against my own. I only wish it was not because she was hurt that I got to be so close to her.

My feet quickened once we entered the lair, and I picked up my pace to get her comfortable so I could start the healing process. Once she was laid down I fetched my medical box that has helped me so much in the past, and a bowl of water with a rag.

"Lie back," I order once I see her sat upright.

To my surprise she obeyed, lying back onto the sheets her luscious curls spreading over the pillows.

Breathtaking. I realize the only way to tend to her wound would be to remove her clothing. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

"May I undress you so I can tend to your wound?" I ask, making it clear that I only have pure intentions.

She nods in permission and I try to push back the desire and pleasure in removing the clothing from her. A thin piece of fabric, stained in blood is all that's left. The strap is small, so her top does not need to be removed. My finger slowly pushes the strap to the side, a small voice scolds me for leaving my gloves on. I could have felt her skin under my fingertips.

The wound is as bad as expected from an arrow wound.

"You're going to need stitches, I'm afraid I'm not the best seamstress," I admit.

"Then maybe you should take me to a hospital," Her eyes plead for me to agree.

No... she would tell someone and they would take her away from me. I only just met her, our time together has only begun. No- I will treat her myself, I've mended my own wounds before I know the basic skills. Not answering yet another one of her questions I pick up the rag, dipping it into the water and begin to clear the area. Keeping pressure to a minimum, I gaze mesmerized at her skin. It looks so smooth, making the yearning ache inside of me increase as the rag graze's over the top of her breast.

Pull it down she is covered in blood, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you cleaned it all off for her. The voice taunts, wanting me to push the boundaries and let my urges out on her.

 _No, not yet, not like this_ , I scold my inner sub conscience.

I don't want to give her more reason to try and run away from me again.

"What on earth were you thinking trying to run away in those tunnels? Do you not recall nearly dying already from the traps? " I scold, while threading the needle.

"You didn't give me much of a choice, you're keeping me here against my will," I snarl at him.

I didn't miss the anger in her voice. In time she will be able to leave once she has served her purpose. Once I know she will not run in fear from me and tell the authorities. It's but a dream to think that this woman could want to stay with me when this is all over.

I puncture her skin with the needle, not meaning to push so hard. I guess her words and actions have hurt me more than I let on.

"I am simply keeping you here for the time being. You will be free to go once I say so," I tell her honestly.

"But why? Why are you keeping me down here?" She asked, her body stiffening with each stitch.

She wouldn't understand, not yet, she's injured and hasn't had the best first day. She needs rest, then I can explain everything to her when she's calmer and not glaring at me like that.

"I have my reasons."

I cut off the thread placing the items back into the box. I pour some of the rubbing alcohol onto the finished product, not missing the wince on her beautiful face. She's so close to me I never thought I would be so close to her, able to reach out and touch her. She smells delightful, like freshly picked berries. I wrap a bandage around her shoulder, letting my eyes trail over her thin shirt soaked in blood.

"I'm afraid your shirt is ruined, and I only have two dresses at my disposal for now," I inform her.

Walking over to the wardrobe I recall the two dresses I had prepared for Christine. Elizabeth is slightly shorter, but they should be the same size body wise. Pulling out one of them I watch anxiously as Elizabeth's eyes it. First awe crosses her face before confusion and disgust?

"I don't suppose the other dress is any different?" she asks.

She doesn't like it, but it is of the finest quality.

I frown. "No, I'm afraid not."

"I'll just wear my hoodie for now," She mumbled.

 _Hoodie?_ I didn't know what she meant by that. Then I watched as she tried to reach for the clothing I'd removed to get to her shoulder. Without hesitation, I put the dress down and pick up then clothe handing it over to her.

She stares blankly at me as I wait to see what else I can do to help her. In some sense, I feel like this was my fault even if she was the one to run. I should have kept a closer eye on her instead of trusting her so quickly. I do that too often, trust a woman before knowing anything about them.

"Could I have some privacy?" She questions.

She wanted to change, how foolish of me.

"My apologies- do get some rest. I will check on your wound again in the morning," I inform her, giving a quick bow before disappearing back to my organ.

I've managed to act so composed around her so far, but that little comment sent a flush of heat to my face. What I'd give to have seen more of her flesh exposed to me. My mind begins to wonder and I shake those dark fantasies away.

She will learn to love me like Christine nearly did and no other will get in the way this time.


	6. Deranged man

**Lilly PoV**

I nuzzled closer to the sheets, a content sigh escaping my lips as I breathe in the fresh scent of water. That's when I felt a strange stiffness in my shoulder. My face scrunches up, and I turn on to my back carefully.

The arrow- I'm still here, I keep my eyes screwed shut in hope that when I open them, this nightmare would be over. When I finally open my eyes I recoil back in fright, a scream escaping my lips at the man in a mask hovering beside the bed.

He too stumbles back, but not in fear, instead out of surprise at my outburst.

"My apologies, I did not mean to frighten you," He bows, sincerity in his eyes and words.

I stared at him incredulously.

He's joking, right? Does he not realize all he has done is frighten me since the moment he took my freedom from me. This man is truly insane. I have made my opinion very clear to him, even risked my life to get away from him, and he treats me as if it never happened. He acts like a kind-hearted man, cleaning my wound, and ensuring I'm fed and comfortable with a bed. But can't he see all I want is to leave.

Oh, _Christopher,_ I hope you are okay...

"How is your wound?" He questions, coming closer. "May I?" He gestures to my shoulder when I give no answer but a blank stare.

He sighs and proceeds to unbandage my wound without waiting for permission. Not that I would give any, I am too alert to speak. His eyes trail over it, narrowing slightly, before relaxing back into a straight-lipped frown.

"It appears to be healing as expected, you are very lucky the arrow struck you without hitting any vital arteries," He tells me.

If I didn't fear his reaction I would've let out a sarcastic laugh. Lucky my ass-

"I have prepared you something to eat in the dining room, please eat, and then join me once you are done." He announced, with a bow he retreats.

Sitting up slowly once he has gone, I wince cupping my shoulder and applying a little pressure to relieve some of the pain. Keeping a hold of it, I walk out, taking a moment of awe to look out at the lake before I register the man standing beside the organ shuffling through papers. His back stiffens and his movements slow when I walk closer, the sound of my feet slapping against the stone ground the only sound in the cave. Disappearing behind the curtain which leads to the kitchen, I quicken my pace looking up to the ceiling above the table.

It's gone. Where there was an outline of a trapdoor on the ceiling is now just a plain, stone ceiling. Hope dies out within me, and I knows any other trap doors around the lair will now be closed off. The only exit or entrance now is the lake.

My quivering hand rises to my lips, masking the sobbing noises escaping. Slumping down into the wooden chair, I try to regain control of my breathing.

Similar food like yesterday is in front of me, and I nibble on the dry bread, gulping down the jug of water. This man is unpredictable, for now, I'll play along with whatever he has planned. But when I get the opportunity I will escape, even if it means running into more of these man's dangerous traps.

Once I finished eating, I knew I'd put off going to the man long enough. I forced my body to move towards him, once I spotted him at the organ. His back was to me, but once he heard my footsteps, he twisted his head to look at me from over his shoulder.

His daunting eyes trailing over my body for just a second before relaxing on my face. The way he stares at me unnerved me to the very core, and I try my best not to whimper or scream in fright as he plays a dark, chilling note on the organ.

"Sing." He commanded his deep voice matching the tone of the music perfectly.

 _Sing_? Why did he want me to sing? What did he want me to sing? I stood dumbfounded and petrified to the spot. His eyes grew darker, and again the note rang out, his finger pressing harder this time.

"Sing." He commanded once more, his voice rattling off the stone walls.

"I can't-" I choked out, my voice barely audible over the organ.

"What did you just say?" He ceased playing.

"I can't sing-" I admit to him.

He does nothing for a moment, just sits there, until suddenly he rises from his stool. Growling as he rips his cape from his shoulders, throwing it across the cave. With his back to me, I see the heavy rise and fall of his broad back. With his cape off I can see this man is muscular, which adds on another unsettling trait to his already dangerous persona.

"Then you will learn," He snarled out, finally returning back to his stool.

He beckons me forward, a fierce determination burning in his eyes. He reaches forward scrambling through the old pieces of parchment paper on top of his organ. He hands me one, and I have difficulty trying to read the fancy handwriting. It's near enough incoherent and written in French.

"Am I supposed to know this song?" I questioned, scanning over the unfamiliar lyrics.

"You do not know the song?" He fired back, incredulously. "Think of me is from the grand opera Hannibal, have you really never heard of it?"

An opera? No wonder I haven't heard of it. The simple ballet songs Mrs. Fell plays are as close to opera as I have ever gotten.

"I don't know it," He let out an aggravated sigh. "I'm sorry." I apologized, trying not to get on his bad side.

"I will teach it to you. Listen carefully to the range, the timing, and the lyrics." He instructs.

I watch from my spot on the stone rock a few feet behind the man. His back straightens and skillfully his gloved hands reach out to the keys and begin to play a light tune, much lighter than any I have heard him play.

" _Think of me- Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while please promise me you'll try_ ," He sang along to the tune.

His voice was...indescribable. It painted a different picture of the man I had come to fear in the past twenty-four hours. It was not the voice of a strong, fierce and frightening man. No, it was the voice of an angel.

Or maybe I've just become so deranged from being in this dark cave for so long.

"Now you sing it," He commands, staring the tune from the beginning.

I cough a little, my throat still very sore from all the screaming, running and drowning I've endured in the past twenty-four hours. I feel very uncomfortable singing, since it is something I never do, simply because can't. But I'm too afraid to see what he will do if I don't listen to him.

" _Think of me- Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye_ -" He visibly winces when my voice cracks. " _Remember me, once in a while please promise me you'll try_ ,"

He slams his fingers down on the keys, his shoulders stiff and hunched over. I can't stop my hands from shaking in fright of his reaction. My shoulder begins to pulse in pain as my heart begins to pump furiously.

"You sing from your nose, you must use your lungs, use your range and breath do not hold it in, that is why your voice cracks. You speak beautifully, there is no reason why you can't sing just as well," He mumbled the last part as if trying to convince himself.

"I can't-"

"You will!" He growled, a crazed look in his eyes as he stares me down, the mask casting a dark shadow over the left side of his face. "Again."

I clasp my eyes shut taking in a shaky breath as I attempt to sing again. This isn't going to work, I wasn't blessed with a voice like some people. My passion and skills are in the art of dance for a reason.

" _Think of me_ -"

"No, no, no! You're not doing it right!" He yells pushing a pile of old papers around him to the floor.

I recoil back as they flutter down to my feet. The papers are the least of my worries, especially when he stands up and marches towards me. This is it isn't it? I'm going to die by the hands of some deranged man living in a cave and why? Because I can't sing.

This can't be happening right now, I can't be about to die. Even with one of my arms barely mobile, I will fight for my life until my last breath, for Christofer's sake.

I clench my fists as he disappears behind me, then I feel his hands pushing tightly against my abdomen, pulling me against his chest. My breath leaves my lungs, both from the pressure he is pushing me with and the feel of his warm toned body against mine. In a really messed up way, I felt slightly turned on by it and it disgusted me. He's my kidnapper, my really old kidnapper.

I push the feeling away, blaming my hormonal teenage body for reacting in such a way.

"Again." He commands pushing slightly more on my abdomen.

With a shivering breath, I reluctantly part my lips to repeat this torture again.

" _Think of me- Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while promise me you'll try_." I sang with as much effort as possible to appease him.

Without his hands, at the organ, it was only my voice echoing off the cave walls that filled the silence. I couldn't help but notice a change in my voice when his hands pressed against me while I sang. My voice kept steady and didn't crack, it was far from perfect, but it was certainly better.

The man's warm breath fanned over the nape of my neck as he sighed.

" _Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try,_ " He sang the next part, his voice sending an unwanted chill through me.

" _Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try_ ," I repeated back.

" _When you find, that once again you long, to take your heart back and be free_ ," His voice flowed to the higher notes with ease.

 _This isn't going to be good_ , I tell myself.

" _When you find, that once again you long, to take your heart back and be free_ -"

"No, no no!" He bellows, ripping his hands from me in anger. "It's not the same. She's not the same. It's not her. She can't do it." He mumbled to himself.

I watched in fear as the crazed man paced in a circle talking to himself. Slowly I backed up, my quivering feet drawing me closer to the lake. There must be a leaver or something close by that can open the gate. There a very slim chance I'll have enough time to open it before he catches me, but with the way he's acting, he could kill me at any minute.

I accidentally make a loose rock fall down the stairs behind me, creating a loud echo throughout the cave. Wild, wide eyes bore into my own, rooting me to the spot and taking the air out of my lungs. His eyes trail down to my quivering hands, before returning back to my face, and there is a noticeable difference in him. He stands straighter instead of hunched over, and his eyes return back to there us all calm and collected state.

"My apologies, I did not mean to scare you," He takes a step towards me and I take one back teetering on the edge of the staircase.

He sighs, clasping his hands behind his back.

"It will just take longer to train you then I anticipated that's all." He noted.

That was his intention all along? To train me to... _sing_. And who was this woman he was mumbling about earlier? To say I was confused would be an understatement. Kidnapped and forced to sing opera songs, I can see the headlines already and rumors that will spread throughout Paris.

The man kneels down beginning to pick up the paper littering the floor.

I looked down at my own feet where papers lay. My brows knit together when I spot a folded up newspaper, yellow form age with a familiar masked face on the front cover. I bend to pick it up, unfolding it as I stand up to see the full image. It's a wanted poster.

' _The Opera Ghost has murdered once more_ '

My mouth drops as I read the headline, then look closer at the drawing of a man identical to the one in front of me, completely unaware of what I have found. I'm thankful to have French as a second language, as the whole article is in French.

' _The Opera populaire has once again been victim to the murder who is rumored to lurk within the Opera house. Many know him as the Opera Ghost or as The Phantom of the Opera named by stagehands and dancers. With the death of Joseph Buquet, a stagehand who was hung live on stage before an audience. Police are warning the people of Paris to be wary, and for any information on the masked murder to be handed over to the police immediately_.'

Here in this Operahouse, no, that's impossible. I've been coming here for years, I live across the street from it and I have never heard of such stories. But as I lower the newspaper, I look at the man and can't deny how believable the statement is. This deranged man certainly is capable of murder.

I gasp as I catch sight of something confirming my suspicions. There in the corner, prominent amongst the pile of props is a lasso, just like one that could have been used to hang-

"What are you doing?" The man snaps me out of my train of thought.

I take a deep breath turning the paper around showing him the front of the newspaper. Realization crosses his features immeditadly and he turns so only the white porcelain mask is in my view.

"I get it now, why you brought me down here. You're a copycat, aren't you? I've watched crime watch I've heard about your kind. Crazy people who copy what another crazy person has done. That's what you're trying to do, you're trying to be him, this Opera ghost," I rant, breathing heavily grasping the paper tightly.

He takes a breath, finally turning to me with such an eerily calm demeanor.

"I am no copycat-"

"Bullshit," I cut him off. "If you let me go now, I won't tell the police, I won't tell anyone about you, okay?" I lie in an attempt to free myself.

He frowns, possibly at my sudden boldness and outburst at him.

"It wouldn't matter if you did...believe me, Madam, though I have hurt people in the past, I would not harm you."

"Tell that to the hole in my shoulder." I pointed out.

"I tried to help you but you ran from me," He stated calmly.

"Becuase you are a delusional, psychopath!" I scream at him through watery eyes. "Just give up this act, you are not the Opera ghost, you can't be,"

"Why not?" He questions, tilting his head.

"Becuase- this paper was written in 1870," I exclaim. "It's 2017, its impossible,"

The man before me closes his eyes taking this information in, but never losing his composure. He's really taking this role to heart, isn't he? I watch warily as he takes a seat at his organ, facing me.

"Elizabeth, I have been cursed, banished into this dark abyss that has been my home for, far too long. I have killed myself in many creative ways, but every time I wake up here, with the same monstrous face as before. I believe it is a punishment from God, for all the sins in my life. I am to walk this earth, a hideous gargoyle, alone, forever." He tells me, lowering his head with shame.

Hideous, gargoyle? I didn't like to admit it, but the man is good looking, what on earth is he talking about? Unless...

"Why do you wear a mask?"

 **A/N**

 **Just wanted to say thank you for checking out the story :)**


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